Well, this is just a really awful day, and I hurt all over. Julia taps gently on the cushioned seat in the impromptu triage unit, while Valkyries and SAF medics gently look them over. Drenar is being seen for his various injuries, along with Angela. Kyle’s wound had also gotten a look over, and they concluded that their emergency care had been adequate. Meanwhile, one of the Valkyries had pulled her to a separate room to check her bruised and beaten body. Joey had steadfastly refused to leave Angela’s side, so they were in a private room. Even with her focused draconic hearing, she couldn’t make it out quite fully, but Angela seemed to be in a modicum of pain. At least, the prognosis was positive.

Meanwhile, she’s relieved to be receiving much-needed medical care from the woman in lighter armor who has been meticulous with checking her wounds. She has soft brown hair and light brown eyes hidden behind her visor. Even when they're doing this kind of work, it surprises her how tightly they guarded their appearance.

“Turn, please.” Gentle hands check on the various bruises, and those annoying energy burns that are angry red on her torso and creep up past her right breast. Her mother has at least given her privacy for a moment, while the woman helps apply a salve to take the edge off the pain, and help with the wounds. Cracked and blistered skin is going to ruin her beach days, she thinks with a soft sigh when she looks down at herself. Her whole body is a tapestry of hurts, and it still doesn’t hurt worse than the sterile smell of antiseptic, the bland decorum of this small medical room, or the fact that her life is about to enter a whole new layer of trouble.

Julia sets all that aside and just looks down at the various wounds. “How does it look?” It’s the first few words she has uttered in a few minutes, and the cramping, painful feeling in her arms holding up her shirt reminds her that this pain she’s endured, was done so others wouldn’t have to. “Do you uh…have a name?”

“Thormir. The name is sort of a love fusion between my Nordic father, and my mother from Russia,” the woman says lightly, and probes at her rib. She winces and sucks in her breath from the sharp spike of pain. “Okay, that’s a bruised rib, but not broken. The energy burns will fade quickly, you’re lucky as an Auran Goldback that you have substantial resistance against this kind of damage.”

"But not complete immunity. Ow." Every movement is painful, and the thing that Joey is gently reminding her and the others about regen potions is rather obnoxious. They don’t heal every single injury, and certainly not all at once. The associated pain suppression that she’d attributed to the magical concoction, while dulled, made her aware that she'd been burnt, shot, sliced, bruised, beaten, and fallen into a chilly underground river. She groans at the onslaught of pain in her aching limbs–this is almost as bad as the mental anguish she’s facing, along with the others.

Gauze gets wrapped around the wounds. Thormir is very graceful, and there’s only mild discomfort as the last of the wraps go around. She won’t be wearing a bikini for a while–then again, who’s she trying to impress? Drenar? She glances out at the room across the commons area where she can see him getting treated. He looks beat to hell all over, almost as bad as she does. Or worse. She looks down, and puts a hand to her chest. She’s not small per se, but…physical attraction has never been a thing between the two of them. It’s something different. An emotional bond.

We’re more like a brother and sister, than friends who grew up together. She lets out a soft sigh that doesn’t go unnoticed, and Thormir follows her gaze out the window. It’s not hard to tell who she was thinking about. “Boy trouble? He’s okay, you know, he’s in good hands.”

“No. It’s not that.” Putting it in words…putting her feelings into some form that the world could hear, would mean the end. She’s always entertained the idea that Drenar and her might come together at some point. And they almost did. Right before that day. The day that had derailed everything.

He needed someone who understood what he felt. Even more than her. Someone who could snap him out of that far-away gaze he had sometimes, trying desperately to put that day in the back of his mind as best he could. That haunted look.

And she has a feeling she knows who that is–that cinnamon-flavored alchemist who is a respectable badass in her own way. Her gaze looks past the bruised and bloodied reflection, hair still covered in spider viscera, and toward where her twin soul is recovering. He’s grimacing against someone checking his ribs.

She licks her lips before the words come to her. “He's…had an unfathomably rough time, Thormir. And I might have pushed him too hard. I don't want to think about what we had to do, to come out of that disaster alive–”

“What you did, along with your friends, would have been a tall order. Even for a Valkyrie,” Thormir says softly, and pulls off the latex gloves with a soft snap. “The fact that you were there for each other, speaks volumes. You, the SAF fellas, and the staff of Asqualia.”

“Then why doesn't it feel like a win?” she asks bitterly. All she wants to do is curl up next to him, and tell him that things are going to be okay. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be bitchy, but I have no idea how long I can keep my head held high.” Thormir nods and glances out the pane of glass. Her mother is out there, too, coordinating Valkyries, and even some of the senior SAF personnel. She’s never seen her mother looking so worn down. She must have unfathomable stamina to be a warrior of legend, and still have the energy to raise a teenage daughter alone. She winces, and her head lowers. Dad, you must have known. But you never tried to dissuade me from training, trying to be like you.

Thormir’s presence gets her attention, before she steps back from the glass. “I know it looks bad. I saw the promenade earlier in the week, and it was beautiful, in these early fall days. Now…now it is bloodstained, tainted by those monsters. I’m glad the Valkyries are not the only ones who can stop these killers from inflicting their horrific violence on others.” Julia stretches and gasps–wounds protest at the motion, and she rubs at the bindings gently. That had been a rather silly move that she normally does, when she’s thinking.

“Yeah, we were, um, stopping the Talons all week.” She says the words she’s been dreading, because she knows she can’t go back to any semblance of normal life after the past few weeks. “I killed some of them. I don’t feel a single shred of remorse for them. I did what my dad would have done in my place, and put them down for the monsters they were, and for what they’ve done, for the lives they stole from everyone.”

Her hands are still as steady as when she’d shot the first Talons soldier in the teleportal room–bruised fingers, but still flat calm. “Tell me that’s not normal. To not have any lasting shame or regret about neutralizing foes.” Thormir looks at her and kneels for a moment. She thought she was just swabbing at her bruised knuckles. She holds her hand steady, her gaze soft and assuring.

“It’s…not always easy for everyone. For some, they have the fortitude to look at their actions, and measure in lives saved, lives protected. And not view success as the number of foes fallen.” There’s no judging from Thormir, at least, not that she can tell, and she puts a hand firmly on her shoulder. There’s a warm smile hinted at behind her visor. “You should stay close to your friends, Julia. I think you all will need to be there for each other in the coming days. The realization won’t hit you for a day, maybe two. But when it does, It’ll be like the world bearing down on you.” She lets out a soft breath behind her magitech visor. “Don’t be afraid to find a shoulder to cry on, dear. Because you will need it. Now, I’ve taken care of most of your injuries, your wrist is also possibly sprained–”

“Nope, I’ll be alright. I’m not wearing a sling,” she states, before softens her expression. “But…thank you. I just don’t ever want to turn into an utter psychopath like Val.”

“You won’t. Just remember the lives saved, and those who no longer face terrors in their sleep, and you’ll be alright.” Thormir's resolve filles with confidence that it’s not all dour. She hastily puts on a rather plain-looking jacket to ward off the cool interior air, and she zips it up to hide the bandages over her battered body.

Those gauntlets of hers–they’d given her enough strength to stand toe to toe with Val, and deflect that deadly blade. They’re now subtly disguised as a pair of faint green bracelets on her arms. At least she’ll always have them close by. Her boots are intact too, and she scruffs at the nondescript commercial carpet. She looks back to Thormir. “Am I good to go? I want to go check up on my friends.”

Thormir nods and gestures to the main room. “Alright, you’re already close to the maximum for regen potions–your alchemist friend knows her stuff, for the record. She did a really good job.” She sees Joey sitting next to James in the commons, along with Evan and Jackie.

There’s a strange mix of bedfellows out there. That had been the other commotion. James, Evan, and Jackie beeline to them at the medical center. Thankfully, Kelly was still with her family. She doesn’t want to have to face that today, she doesn’t want to be the one to tell her that her father is dead. She fiddles with the bracelet–if only she’d been a little stronger. Maybe she could have convinced Lavernius to run.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

But she’ll never know now. He chose to sacrifice his life for the lives of his coworkers–for her and Joey. Even with his prior actions and the way he mercilessly executed men as a means of neutralizing a danger, she can’t hate him. Because in the end…he’d been focused on saving lives, in his own way. The hard question is…should Kelly know his final moments?

I’ll tell her. Even though it’s going to be hard. She wipes away a hint of moisture at the corner of her eye before she pushes the glass door open and walks out of the makeshift triage room. Her boots scuff against the carpet–she feels like her limbs are lead weights. James sees her, and runs up to her to hug her–a decidedly affectionate move for a teen who normally has the emotional drive of a slab of wood. She grunts as the motion flares up half her wounds, but she still puts her hands gently around him. Of all of them, he’s still steadfast in the face of truly insurmountable odds. But Joey had made the right call–he would have died in that firefight, for sure.

“Don’t you guys ever leave me out of the fight again.” Those are the first words she's heard him say since they were all reunited at the medical center.

She just doesn’t have the heart to push back this time, and leans on him for a moment. “James, you missed one hell of a spectacle. We put that scaly bitch in her place.”

“Of course you did. I wouldn’t have expected anything less when it comes to you. Drenar should be out in a bit…but, what about Angela?”

“James, she’ll be okay. You have my word on that.” Julia’s quiet tone manages to break through the general ambient commotion of doctors, paramedics, and Valkyries still administering aid to the wounded. Some were from the attack earlier in the day. Others were those transported from Nick’s barn, where they brought the staff of Asqualia to safety. “She’s just exhausted, and in a lot of pain.”

“Joey was saying some…weird stuff happened.” She peeks over James’ shoulder to see Joey peering at her, hands held up and wavering up and down. She’s got no way to explain this one to him this time. “And, the sword–it worked for her, too?”

“It did. Angela held that monster at bay while we were all incapacitated. She did something truly impossible, James. I wish you could have seen it. She put Val in her place that even Drenar couldn’t.” She spends a few minutes recapping everything that happened after he was ported out to safety, and then he fills her in on the goings-on. Kiera had been livid with him, to put it mildly. Many colorful deaths had been promised for her, Drenar, Evan, and pretty much everyone involved. Her mother is still tied up talking logistics with several officers and hasn’t noticed she’s out and about.

She’d rather not rush this one, because that cut that she doesn’t remember getting is painful on her right leg. James finally guides her down, and she doesn’t feel like protesting this time. The bench is worn, and feels scratchy on her hands–guess mages don't have any place to order furniture from other than office overstock. “So uh…anyone got a fix on just what happens next?”

“We get grounded for eternity, and the Talons hunt us until we're dead?” Evan suggests. He's holding hands with Jackie–seriously, the bitch made him into filets a couple of weeks ago, and they're holding hands? She's got no idea what happened between the time they went into Asqualia, and she doesn't have the mental fortitude to unpack this one. She just rolls her eyes in response. “You look like you took on the army, Tsundere.”

“I did.” She could mention she'd shot several men, fried a bunch more, fired a fifty caliber heavy machine gun in a moment of utter badassery, had a hand in plasma wrestling with a massive spider, and fought Valosterla in a close-quarters brawl, but that might be too much. “It takes a lot more than an army to kill me.”

“How you can look at this with any levity, is beyond me.” Jackie sighs and rubs a cut across her arm–residual damage from the firefight early in the day, and her face is bruised. “You know, you two might have just saved Jonaleth's life? Because, if you hadn't done what you did and gotten him locked up with SAF, he'd have gone lockstep down into Asqualia with the rest of the killers probably.”

“I'd have killed him if he did, Jackie. Too many good people died down there.” She wants to just curl up on the bench and do nothing other than huddle next to her friends right now–or the strange frenemy now sharing the seating.

“I think there's been enough of that for one day. I'm gonna go check on Drenar, mind if you give me a few minutes?” Joey asks before rising from the seat. She waves a hand carefree.

“Just promise me you're not gonna harvest his organs if he's beyond repair,” Julia responds gruffly. Joey chuckles softly.

“I prefer living subjects, Julia. Besides, every pint of his blood yields about six regen potions.” She raises an eyebrow in response.

“He’s not a blood bank.” She might have to set some limits to dragon science, because even Drenar has his limits. A mobile blood bank might be pushing it.

“Hey, I know a baker that can supply cookies and juice for extra donations. I’ll give you a cut of the proceeds, ten percent, to convince him?” Joey grins evilly at this suggestion. Julia bursts out laughing at this–this sassy alchemist has bite!

“Twenty-five,” she counters as she leans into this idea, and James groans while Joey’s eyes light up. She really wants to know what the deal is with those lavender eyes, and why James only saw blue!

“Oh dear Fates, are we negotiating Drenar as a medical life-saving donor factory? I have objections to this lapse in ethics, and you are more terrifying than Tsundere!” James accuses Joey, who smiles coyly. “Besides, who do you know who's a baker?”

A new voice breaks up the discussion. “Hey uh, guys…what are you all fixated on?” Julia glances over, and Drenar is coming out of the room, bandages and bruises, but stoic in the face of injury. Even smiling faintly. She walks over to him and even despite the aching pain in her body, gives him a reassuring hug.

“Ah, nothing you need to worry about for a couple of days.” His protest of mild pain is followed by a heartfelt sigh.

“Yeah, let’s take a day off. You know, before the nightmares and screaming matches kick in. Let's not make this a thing again anytime soon, yeah?” He peers around the room, as if taking count. “Where are Nick and Levine?” he asks. “You know, before we need to start explaining ourselves to the Valkyries?”

“Nick broke his shoulder on the last round of that monster weapon of his. Volkir was helping him and Levine, they're down the hall,” James explains, and his expression softens. “Are you still carrying that thing?” He points to the hilt of Luminari peeking over his shoulder.

“I will keep my equipment from now on. Hey Tsundere, I’m surprised you’re still standing.” She smiles faintly at this.

“Like I'd let you be the last one standing, Drenar.'' She has a feeling that if even he can keep upbeat, after a night of untold horrors, then there is hope. There is a tomorrow for so many others, because of their daring, bravery…and maybe a little recklessness thrown in. “Don't mind me not calling you champion or anything. You fought like a damn Colosseum warrior.”

“Likewise. Now we've got the hard part ahead. Dealing with…well, everything that happened. And probably an unfathomably large pile of paperwork.” James lets out a soft huff. “That’s the hard part of heroics. Unfathomable, hellish paperwork."

“Screw them. They can wait a day. I think we've all earned that at a minimum," she responds back to him. Everyone else chimes in quietly--they'd need an army to separate them. “No matter what they say…we stick together, alright?”

“Like I'd let them ever split us up.” That warm smile of his, is all the assurance she needs from him to know they've got this. This night isn't the end.

It's the start of something new. Bold. Daring. And right. Even the wayward glance she sees over Drenar's shoulder of her mother, and a slight nod and a light smile, tells her that…despite the danger…

…She's proud of them.